


with blood and soft stitches

by foxhat



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, In The Flesh AU, M/M, sort of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:17:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8411614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxhat/pseuds/foxhat
Summary: With everything that is going on at the Garrison, Shiro and Keith decide to stick to being friends for now. Maybe when Shiro gets back from the Kerberos mission they can work things out.Of course, things never go as planned, and Keith is left alone on Earth when the mission goes wrong- or so he thinks.





	1. the beginning

**Author's Note:**

> _if you must mourn, my love_  
>  _mourn with the moon and the stars up above_  
>  _if you must mourn, don’t do it alone_  
>  _(..)_  
>  _if you must die, sweetheart_  
>  _die knowing your life was my life’s best part_  
>  _if you must die_  
>  _remember your life_  
>  \- You, Keaton Henson

**i.**

It’s a quiet afternoon as they’re sitting outside, looking out over the bare landscape of the desert that surrounds them. Keith has changed from his Garrison uniform into his regular clothes – those tight pants Shiro refuses to think about for too long and his favourite red jacket.

  
“You’re going away,” Keith says bluntly, breaking the silence. Shiro should’ve expected it. Keith has always been better at facing the truth.

“Just for a year,” Shiro answers, because he recognises the question hidden in Keith’s words. “It’s a simple mission.”

They’re not looking at each other. Eye contact has been tricky ever since they agreed not to act on their feelings. Keith has a scholarship to worry about, and nowadays Shiro is almost constantly feeling stressed with the pressure Iverson and the other instructors are putting on him. Now it doesn’t seem very likely that will change anytime soon, with him going on his first mission.

He can hear Keith’s soft sigh, and watches from the corner of his eye as Keith presses the palms of his hands onto his knees. “Just a year,” he echoes, and the way Keith says it, Shiro suddenly feels less sure about himself. Keith is right, a year is a _long_ time. Things have changed in lesser time than that. Can he really expect Keith to be there when he returns? Will they be able to talk just as easily? He imagines a world where their conversations are strained, where silences are awkward instead of just there. He doesn’t like it.

But what can he do? They both knew this would happen eventually, and he isn’t about to give up his life long dreams for a boy he met just a few years ago. That would be a foolish, reckless thing to do. He knows Keith wouldn’t even let him.

“Will you-,” he starts, but doesn’t know how to finish. It’s almost like the tension Shiro just thought about is already creeping into their conversation, until Keith softly bumps their shoulders together.

“You’ll be fine,” he tells Shiro, lifting his head to look him in the eye. Shiro feels himself relax a little under that familiar gaze. “And I’ll be here when you get back,” he adds, and Shiro breathes out his relief.

“I’ll look forward to coming back then,” he smiles, and gets a smile in return as well.

“Me too,” Keith says, and with that they’re okay again.

It’s a little tough sometimes, and every now and then Shiro feels overwhelmed with how much he just wants to be with Keith, but whatever happens he knows he can at least count on Keith to be his friend.

Besides, maybe when he gets back – maybe they will have the time to figure out a way to let this work. It fills him with a soft hope. When he gets back, he decides, he’ll ask Keith again. They’ll work things out.

 

**ii.**

 

Keith is standing outside on the roof when he sees Shiro’s space ship rise from the ground. It goes up, up, up– and then suddenly there’s smoke and a terrifying downwards slope. He’s still standing on the roof when it crashes back onto Earth, still standing there as people pile onto their vehicles to race towards the ship, still standing there when the sun slowly sinks back to the earth to make place for the moon and stars.

He’s back in his class room when the teacher tells them in a very serious tone about the engine malfunction. _We are very sorry to say that there are no survivors_.

 

They decide to hold a separate memorial for the small crew in the canteen of the Garrison, since the bodies have been send back to their respective families. Them being the Garrison instructors, of course. No one has asked Keith anything, though he supposes he can’t really blame anyone for that. There were very few people aware of how much Shiro and Keith meant to each other, if any.

Keith tries not to think about it too much, because if he does he’ll get angry again. He has always been someone with anger issues, but now it’s there all the time, simmering right under the surface of his skin. He knows it’s the kind he shouldn’t let out, because if he does he won’t be able to stop.

He’s wearing his uniform, just like all the other people standing in the canteen. He can hear people whispering about Shiro, _it’s such a loss_ , when he knows they never spoke a word to Shiro. He isn’t surprised – Shiro was the role model of this school, treated as some kind of hero by many of the students – but that doesn’t mean he isn’t bitter about it. Shiro doesn’t deserve this, some memorial with faceless people and meaningless words. There’s a picture of him on the table at the end of the canteen, together with two pictures showing the other two crew members. They're all surrounded by flowers. Keith has never known the other crew members of the ship, only knows they are father and son. Shiro seemed to like them, telling Keith stories about the funny things they did during their preparation sessions for the mission.

Suddenly it’s too much – the memories of their days together like a piece of metal stuck in his chest – and Keith abruptly turns around and leaves the canteen, ignoring the whispers that follow him behind his back.

It isn’t fair. Shiro was his only friend here – or anywhere else, if he’s being honest – and now he’s gone. He wonders if there’s anyone he can blame for the ship’s malfunction, if that would make him feel better. He doubts it. Shiro is dead, and there’s nothing to change that.

 

**iii.**

 

Keith’s hands are covered in grime and sweat, and it’s almost too slippery for him to hold up his gun with a steady grip.

“Get back!” He yells, not daring to look back over his shoulder to see if the others are still okay. It only takes one small mistake to die – they’ve learned that the hard way.

“Jesus, Keith, are you a fucking idiot?!” Someone yells, and despite the sounds of groaning and gurgling, it’s easy to pick out Lance’s voice. He fights the urge to roll his eyes – better to keep his gaze locked on the danger.

“Shut up and get everyone inside!” He yells back, pulling the trigger as another one approaches him. It’s not a pretty sight – grey skin and grey eyes, the splatter of dark blood and pink brain matter as the bullet hits its target. Keith is almost used to it, however. It’s been several months since the dead have risen from their graves, only to turn on everyone with an insatiable hunger for human brains. As if the universe decided Keith’s life isn’t shitty enough yet, a fucking zombie apocalypse broke out. Who would’ve thought.

“You can’t fight off an entire horde on your own, you’re not that cool, you dick,” Lance says, and he isn’t yelling anymore, because by now he has made his way to Keith’s side. Three years ago, if you had asked Keith to voluntarily spend time with Lance, he would’ve spat in your face. Lance was unnecessarily loud, annoying, and too full of shit for Keith’s liking then. He had always been someone at the Garrison Keith made sure to avoid.  
The apocalypse, strangely enough, has changed that. Somehow, he has been accepted into Lance’s odd little group of friends, and even more surprising, they turn out to be a really good team. It’s easy now, to fall into the simple rhythm they have developed together. He takes a step backwards, his back against Lance’s, as they slowly turn in circles and kill off the horde of zombies threatening the safety of their hideout. It’s never silent between them, Lance howling with victory every time he strikes target, and Keith grumpily telling him to stay serious, all the while fighting his grin. The whole zombie thing sucks, and often it terrifies him – the idea of how likely it is for him to die now – , but at least he has found a home again.

 

**iv.**

 

**CURE FOUND FOR PARTIALLY DECEASED SYNDROME**  
_Just one year ago, our view of life and death was changed forever when people we thought to be dead suddenly rose back up from their graves again. The world was shaken when it seemed the subject of many horror movies became a reality, and people were plagued by zombies. The Altea Institute of Medicine was quick to react and started working on a possible cure. The former head of the institute (who died during one of the trials for one of the previous stadia of the drug), Alfor Altea, coined the term Partially Deceased Syndrome when scientists realised that the zombies (or PDS sufferers) were not completely dead.  
Despite the unfortunate death of Professor Altea, his daughter – Professor Allura Altea – rose up to the position of head of the institute and continued the research for a cure in her father’s name._

_Now it seems that Professor Altea has finally reached their goal. The new cure for PDS, called_ Neurotryptilin _, works by stimulating the developing of new glial cells. The Altea Institute of Medicine has already sent out supplies of the medicine to numerous locations across the country. Professor Altea has urged citizens and members of the human volunteer force (HVF) not to kill any PDS sufferers on sight, but instead to capture them and bring them to the police so they can be sedated and sent to a treatment centre.  
The professor shares her hope that PDS sufferers will be able to go back to society after sufficient treatment, saying that so far all of their test subjects have returned back to their normal state._

 

**v.**

 

>> **Lance McClain** [13.20]  
_have you heard???_

 

>> **Keith Kogane** [13.40]  
_heard what?_

 

>> **Lance McClain** [13.41]  
_they found shiro. he’s coming back to the garrison._


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess what guys i'm still alive!! i know it's been really (REALLY) long since i posted the first chapter of this, and i definitely felt a bit of shame when i looked at the exact date i posted the beginning of this story, but i still really like the idea of an itf au so i didn't want to give up this story. that, and i've actually had most of the second chapter finished for months, i just really struggled with the ending (tbh i'm still not completely satisfied but by now it's been so long i decided to just post it)  
> anyway, i guess you could say this story has... risen back from the dead. no? anyone?

Shiro is sitting in the back of the van, his hand gripping his knee so hard it would have left bruises if he wasn’t dead. Partially deceased, he hears the voice of his now ex-therapist correct him. _You’re not dead, Shiro, you were given a second chance_. Some shitty second chance this is.

He forces himself to relax his fingers as he slowly lets out some air. The road is a little bumpy, and he still isn’t used to the lack of weight where his right arm used to be. They said they’d develop a prosthetic for him, but he hasn’t heard anything about it for a while now. He keeps his eyes locked on the headrest of the seat in front of him, not wanting to see his own reflection in the window. The cover-up he’s been given might help with hiding his deathly pale skin, but it only goes so far in covering up the scar running across his face. His therapist can say whatever he wants, when Shiro looks in the mirror he doesn’t see a “partially deceased syndrome sufferer”. All he sees is a man who’s supposed to be dead.

He remembers the look in his father’s eyes the first time his parents came to pick him up from the treatment centre. He remembers the way his mother couldn’t even face him, instead rummaged through her purse so she didn’t have to look him in the eyes. It still hurts a little, but he guesses that’s alright. It’s one of the few things that convince him he is alive (again). Besides, it could’ve been worse. They could’ve just not shown up – he’s seen it happen to others.

It still wasn’t perfect at his parents’ place, though. When he had received the Garrison’s invitation to return, he hadn’t even really thought about it. He’d take anything to get away from the tension in his parents’ home.

Now, however, he’s suddenly hit by second thoughts. It’s been four years – can he even be sure his friends will still be there?

He remembers Keith’s promise, and with it comes a sickening feeling in his gut.  
 _I’ll be here when you get back_.

That was when they both still believed he’d return alive from the mission after one year. Now it’s been four, and Shiro is a partially deceased syndrome sufferer. He can’t expect Keith to have waited for him all this time. He can’t even expect him to be glad Shiro returned.

At the treatment centre, all the counselors and doctors were optimistic to a fault, but he’s heard what some of the other PDS patients said. It’s not the same, out here. Some people refuse to believe that they’re not rabid anymore. Some people say they lost their humanity when they died, and there’s no way for them to get it back. At least his parents _tried_ to act normal. Not everyone is willing to show that decency to PDS sufferers.  
Shiro finally looks at his reflection in the window, sees the deep cut running over the bridge of his nose that’s stitched close. He knows those stitches will stay there forever, because his skin won’t heal anymore. He can’t really blame people for thinking he’s inhuman when he looks like this.

He’s jerked out of his thoughts when the car stops, and he clutches the door handle.

“We’ve arrived,” the driver says, turning off the engine. Shiro feels like throwing up now,   
wondering why he ever thought taking up the Garrison’s invitation was a good idea.

He tries to tell himself he’s here now anyway, and there’s no use in turning back around. 

It helps enough to open the door and step out of the car, but he still feels sick to his stomach when he looks at the impressive building in front of him. It looks exactly like he remembers it – which is a little surprising, given that a lot of the world has changed after the numerous attacks from zombies ( _untreated PDS sufferers, Shiro, you won’t heal when you keep calling yourself a zombie_ ) and the restaurations that followed. 

He spots a tall man in an instructor’s uniform walking outside through the gates. 

 

“Shirogane,” the man greets him as soon as he’s in hearing distance, his posture straight and his face impassive. Shiro doesn’t recognise him, but that doesn’t necessarily mean this man is new at the Garrison. Some of his memories from before the crash are still a little muddled, so he might have just forgotten him.

The instructor makes the mistake of holding out his hand, and Shiro’s silence turns awkward as soon as the man’s eyes flick to his arm – or lack thereof. He can see the doubt flicker across his face – Should he say something? Apologize? – it seems he decides to brush it over, as he quickly switches out his other hand for Shiro to shake without mentioning his blunder.

“We’re glad you have taken up our invitation to return,” the man says, and since he doesn’t provide his name Shiro deducts that he’s supposed to know this man. He can feel the anxiety twisting up his gut, and he tries to push it down.

“I’m glad to be back,” he says, but the words feel hollow on his tongue. 

The man nods and then gestures behind him, back towards the imposing building of the Garrison.

“The rest of the staff is waiting for you inside,” he tells Shiro, and then eyes the driver, who’s carrying Shiro’s suitcases out of the car’s trunk. “Someone there will show you your room and help you carry your stuff,” he adds, and Shiro is more aware than ever of the empty air where his arm used to be.

“Thank you,” he manages to say, and hopes he doesn’t sound too bitter. 

The driver hands the two suitcases to the instructor, telling Shiro a quick goodbye before he disappears back into his car again.

“Let’s go,” the instructor says, and with that he turns around and walks back towards the entrance of the Garrison, Shiro following close behind him.

 

~~*~~

 

“Just let me in,” Keith grits through his teeth, but the guard’s stoic expression doesn’t change. 

“You’re not a cadet any longer, and you don’t seem to have any invitation, so I don’t see why I should grant you entrance,” she repeats for the umpteenth time. At least Keith can get a little spark of satisfaction when he sees the annoyed twitch of the guard’s lips.

“I already told you, the person I’m visiting only just arrived here, he didn’t have time for your stupid administration bullsh–,”

 

“Keith!”

 

Keith looks up abruptly at hearing his own name, and his shoulders sag a little with relief when he sees Lance walking towards them, smug grin on his lips and a plastic card help up in his fingers. Keith’s eyes flicker back to the guard, and he can see her impassive face change into an expression of true annoyance now she notices Lance making his way towards them as well.

“Lance,” the guard says, and the way the name leaves her lips it sounds more like a curse word. It’s how a lot of the staff pronounces his name, as far as Keith knows.

“Now, Jocelyn, don’t tell me you missed me,” he says, putting a hand against his chest as if he feels flattered. The image is shattered when the smug expression returns on his face.

 

“Keith here is my visitor,” he says, holding out the card he’s carrying, “Look, I got him a guest ID and everything,” he added. The guard, Jocelyn apparently, snatched the card out of Lance’s hands and held it in front of her scanner. She frowned when the lights turned green.

“I don’t get how you keep doing this all the time, but one day you’re going to get busted,” Jocelyn said, handing the card back just a little too roughly. Lance didn’t seem fazed, instead turning back to Keith and flinging an arm around his shoulders. 

“I love this whole flirty thing we have going on between the two of us, but I’m afraid I gotta get my visitor inside, so see ya later,” Lance says, dragging Keith with him before he can say anything to the guard.

As soon as they’re inside, Keith shoves Lance’s arm from his shoulder, throwing him a confused look. “How did you do that?” He asks, not completely able to hide the admiration in his voice.

“What do you think?” Lance said, shoving the guest ID into Keith’s front pocket. The guy really had no respect for personal space, but by now Keith was used to it. “I got Pidge to do you a favour. I mean I knew you wouldn’t be able to wait after I sent you that text, and   
Pidge agrees the whole visitor’s administration thing is dumb anyway,” he explained.

“Thanks,” Keith mutters, and to his surprise Lance doesn’t make fun of him.

“Dude, you know I don’t agree with how they refused to take you back after the rising,” he says, bumping his shoulder against Keith’s. Then, as if to remember why he was here   
in the first place, “besides, I can only imagine how bad you’d want to see him.”

The anger he felt had already left him the moment Lance had appeared, and now it’s been replaced by a heavy feeling that rests on his shoulders. He has never exactly told Lance his exact relationship with Shiro, but he guesses something in the way he talks about him has given him away anyway.

As they walk the long hallway, Keith starts to realise that he hasn’t really thought past getting into the Garrison – Is he just gonna look for Shiro immediately now? What will he even say to him? _Hi Shiro, glad you’re not dead. Anymore._

As soon as Lance had send him the text last night, Keith has done nothing but searching through the internet, reading up on everything he could find about PDS. Apparently, amnesia is a common symptom. Shiro might not even remember him. Keith does his best not to freak out too much at that.

“So I’m not completely sure where he is exactly. Pidge said they thought they’d take him to the staff room so I guess we’ll check there first,” Lance says, ripping Keith out of his anxious line of thought.

“Right,” Keith says. “I trust Pidge more than you, to be honest, so let’s go with what they said,” he adds, receiving a push to the shoulder.

“You hurt me, Mullet Man,”Lance replies, before leading the way towards the staff room. Keith rolls his eyes at the nickname that had somehow stuck – not because of lack of protest from his side. He isn’t actually annoyed, though – their bickering is something familiar, and it helps ground him a little. Lance probably knows – the guy has more emotional intelligence than he lets on.

 

In the end, it turns out Pidge was right. They round the corner, and they can see all of the teachers and counsellors standing in the staff room, their backs blocking the view from the hallway. Keith can feel his heart thudding in this chest, and for a moment he has the crazy urge to grab for Lance’s hand. He just needs something to remind him why he’s here, someone to keep him from drowning in his own anxious thoughts.

“You know he’s probably–,” Lance starts, but his voice tapers off into uncertainty. It doesn’t help with Keith’s nerves. Lance, he learned, is uncertain quite often, but he _never_ shows it.

“He’s what?” Keith snaps, his own anxiety making the words leave his mouth almost angry. It’s one of the reasons why he and Lance used to butt heads so often. 

“I mean, he was in a plane crash,” Lance says. “He probably won’t be hot daddy material anymore,” he concludes, in a way only Lance can. The way he suggests that he used to think of Shiro, of Keith’s _best friend_ , as hot daddy material is so absurd he lets out a surprised snort.

“I still hang out with you, so do you really think I care that much about looks?” He retorts, and before Lance can show his indignation, or before Keith can change his mind, he pushes open the door. 

The tense silence is the first thing that hits him, so different to the way the teacher’s always used to fill up this room with chatter. The familiarly shaped back standing a few meters away from him is the second thing.

He watches as the person slowly turns around at the sound of the door closing behind him and Lance, pretty sure he stopped breathing altogether.

Keith won’t lie – the sight he’s met with isn’t pretty. There’s a jagged line across the bridge of his nose where the flesh peels apart, the stitches dark against the skin. He’s wearing a jacket with long sleeves, the one on the right pinned up against his shoulder.

He’s still Shiro, though, still has those broad shoulders, that carefully tender look in his eyes.

“Keith,” he breathes, and it sounds more like a question than a greeting.

“Shiro,” Keith answers, hesitating a moment before stepping closer.

“They said you got kicked out,” Shiro says, sounding confused, and Keith tries not to dwell too long on the fact that Shiro apparently already asked for him.

“I did,” Keith says. “But it’s okay, I never liked the Garrison that much anyway,” he adds at the worried look on Shiro’s face.

One of the teachers closest to them bristles at that, and he recognises the way Shiro fights his smile. He wants to say so much– _You’re really alive. You remember me._

He keeps quiet, though. He can feel the teachers watching him, and besides – he’s not sure how to bridge the past few years.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” one of the teachers finally says, and Keith tenses up in anticipation of the lecture that’s about to come, but Lance speaks up before anyone can berate him.

“Actually, I got him a guest pass, see?” He says, stepping forward and pulling the mentioned card out of Keith’s front pocket. The teachers only now seem to notice Lance is here as well, because Keith can see their frowns increasing.

“Guests are still not allowed in this room,” Iverson says. “And neither are you, for that matter,” he adds, and Lance shrugs as if he didn’t know that. 

Keith’s eyes flick back towards Shiro when he suddenly feels a hand on his shoulder. It feels strange, and for a moment Keith can’t place why, but then he realises that there’s no warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes. He swallows.

“They came to visit me,” Shiro says, voice calm. Keith aches at hearing it – Shiro had always been good in handling near-fights or discussions. “Surely that’s allowed?” 

He still sounds calm, collected, but Keith can feel the fingers on his shoulder squeezing a little in the silence that follows. He’s just as tense as Keith is.

“Fine,” Iverson finally relents, and the hand slips away from his shoulder again. “But we were in the middle of discussing official matters, they can wait outside for five minutes at least.”

Keith bristles, but Lance steps forward again and holds his elbow.

“I’ll wait in the hallway?” Keith says, looking back to Shiro’s face. He responds with a smile Keith recognises to mean a yes, and he lets Lance pull him out of the room with a sigh.

 

~~*~~

 

“Right,” Iverson says, and Shiro is forced to pull his gaze away from the door falling closed. He’s both relieved that Keith wanted to see him and horribly anxious at the idea of having to talk to him in less than five minutes. 

“Like I said, there are a few… formalities we’d like to discuss with you before you settle in.”

Shiro nods, not fully paying attention to the conversation yet. Keith was kicked out of the Garrison – he still feels like they should talk about _why_ – but that also meant he came all the way from wherever he lives now to come see him. Something flutters in his chest at the idea.

“We don’t like to make it this formal, but you have to understand that not all of the students or parents are as … content with your return as we are.”

Iverson pulls out some official looking papers, and that jars Shiro back into reality. Of course. He had already suspected they’d want him to sign some kind of contract, this is the Garrison after all.

“Now this is mostly to keep the Garrison’s responsibility out of it should anything go wrong,” Iverson explains, laying the papers down on the table in front of them. He doesn’t have to explain what he means by _wrong_. 

“Of course, I understand,” Shiro says, trying to keep the defeat out of his voice. 

“The board also insisted you take your medication in front of someone from the staff,” Iverson adds, and at that Shiro feels a spike of anxiety. He should’ve known something like this would happen as well. There have been too many stories about the rebels – PDS sufferers refusing to take the medication, sometimes causing injuries or even deaths before they could be contained.

Still, neurotryptilin is prone to bringing flashbacks with it – unpleasant ones. Shiro hates the idea of someone seeing him when he’s vulnerable like that. He doesn’t think there is any way for him to protest, however, so he just nods.

Iverson hands him a pen and points to the empty lines where his signature is supposed to go, and Shiro follows his instructions in silence. He suddenly feels tired. He may have lived with his parents for a while, but he rarely went outside during that time. The awkward stares and avoidant gazes are more taxing than he expected them to be.

When he’s signed the contract, Iverson takes up the small bundle of papers again and hands him the copy. 

“Thank you, Shirogane. I think this is enough for the day,” he says, a surprising tone of friendliness in his voice. “You may go greet your friends now,” he adds, and Shiro lets out a breath of relief.

 

The moment he opens the door of the staff’s room, he sees Keith jumping back onto his feet. There are no chairs in the hallway, but apparently Keith had waited for him sitting on the ground.

“You’re done?” Keith asks, a hopeful undertone in his voice, and Shiro can’t help but smile.

“For today, at least,” he answers. “I’m sure they have much more to talk about tomorrow.”  
Keith frowns, before his eyes fall onto the stack of papers in his hand. 

“What are those?” He asks, eyebrows rising in curiosity.

“They had me sign a contract,” Shiro explains. “Can’t have a zombie walking around on the loose, now can we,” he adds, but the morbid joke falls flat as Keith’s face darkens.

“I- you came to visit me,” he says quickly, trying to dispel the awkwardness. When Keith looks up to him, he’s surprised by the fierceness in his eyes.

“Of course,” he says, and it sounds so natural, so obvious, as if just the thought of Keith doing anything different is unimaginable. Shiro feels his shoulders relax for the first time today.

It’s silent between them again, and Shiro is hit with a memory of them sitting next to each other on the roof, watching the sunset in comfortable silence. This feels nothing like that.

“You’re not as pale as I thought you’d be,” Keith blurts, and Shiro feels himself tensing up again. He doesn’t like talking about this. This being the fact that he’s not the same as before. That he has been dead for two years.

“They, uh, gave me Cover Up. It’s kind of a foundation, I guess,” he explains, though he doesn’t like the unsaid message that comes with it. That he is pale, because his skin will never tan again.

“Right, of course,” Keith mutters, and Shiro is surprised to see his cheeks are turning rosy.

“I just-,” Keith starts, and the way his shoulders hunch up and his forehead wrinkles is familiar. He hasn’t changed in the time Shiro has been gone – not in this, anyway. 

 

“I heard you were coming back to the Garrison last night,” he starts, “ – and I did some research, and I just– I want you to know that I don’t think of you.. Differently,” he says, his cheeks turning redder but his eyes stubbornly staying focused on Shiro’s face. “You’re still Shiro,” he finishes.

Shiro thinks back to his time spent at his parents’ home. How his mother flinched every time he entered the room, how his father only ever spoke to him in awkward, stilted words. He realises that no one has said those words to him ever since the rising. 

He’s not sure how to let Keith know how much his words mean to him, the words clogging up in his throat for a moment.

“I’m glad you came,” he ends up saying. “I wouldn’t know what to do without you here.”

It might not be all he wants to say, might not be enough to bring across the full scope of his feelings, but Keith throws him one of his soft smiles – the ones Shiro remembers from their time spent on the roof or in the privacy of their rooms. He decides that it’s enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I've had the idea of an In the Flesh AU for a short while and I couldn't let it go, so I decided to say fuck it and to just start writing it. The next update might take a while, because I'm not completely sure yet about the plot and I don't want to start posting stuff and accidentally write myself into a corner (also my midterms are coming up but I'm still ignoring them a little, ssh). Anyway, let me know what you think!  
> This has also been unbeta'd and English isn't my native language, so if you spot any mistakes please let me know.  
> You can always find me on [ tumblr](https://www.twomillionfreckles.tumblr.com)


End file.
